A Collection of RonHermione drabbles
by scribhneoir
Summary: My drabble submissions to the rwhg ldws community over on LiveJournal. Each drabble stands alone and the prompt used, and any other conditions, will be noted at the start of each drabble.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Touch

Rating: T

Words: 488

prompt: "Tents are not the most comfortable of places."

It was a light touch, a ghostly whisper that grabbed his attention. He couldn't turn around, fearful of scaring away the tickling touch and the promise it held.

"What are you doing?" he whispered into the twilight of the tent. Night was fast approaching and the light was beginning to fade. Lying on his back, gazing at the tent roof, he waited.

"Nothing."

Her fingers began a tentative trail over his hand, reaching for the scars which encircled his fore-arms.

"Do they still hurt?"

He was suddenly aware of the fact that a tent, definitely not the most comfortable of places when all three of them were there, now seemed to be perfect for two of them.

"Not really...sometimes...there's a twinge...when..."

"When?"

"Nothing...doesn't matter."

The fingers tiptoed a pattern up his arm…

"...dreams..."

One word was all that was needed and it hung in the air between them. Her fingers gently continued the trail of scars.

Rolling onto his side, Ron caught her other hand in his, allowing her fingers to continue their ghostly path. He couldn't meet her eyes, his gaze darted around the tent as he held her hand in his.

As he spotted Harry's shadow outside the tent, standing guard, her hand reached his elbow and continued its journey.

When his gaze fell on the glimpse of disappearing light around the tent flap, her hand stilled and stopped.

"Hermione?"

"Why?"

The serious question and the lack of movement drew his attention to her and he met her gaze.

"Why what?" he asked, terrified of the answer and not at all reassured when she gave none.

Instead, his spirits sank further as the light disappeared completely. Night had fallen suddenly and only the pressure of her hand in his betrayed her presence in the tent.

"Hermione?"

The only answer he got was an increase in the pressure of her hold on him.

Startled by the intensity, he tried to sit up but found Hermione's hands replaced by an all consuming pressure…familiar pains and twinges in his arms returned.

He couldn't breathe...couldn't see...was helpless…he tried to kick out...something...anything...his foot hit something hard and unyielding.

"Bloody..."

He woke up suddenly...alone...with a sore foot at the base of a huge tree. The clearing under the tree where he'd unfurled his sleeping bag, mere hours earlier, was deserted and lit by a half moon hovering high above. Hands shaking, he sprang to his feet, needing to move. He removed his jumper quickly and relished the sensation of the cool air on his inflamed and painful scars. Returning to the tree, he rested his head against the unforgiving trunk, struggling to control his breathing.

Not the first dream he'd had...certainly not the last.

Retrieving his jumper, he quickly stuffed his meagre belongings into the rucksack. He left the isolated spot which had provided some respite.

Striding forward, he continued his search.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Truth**

**Words: 370**

**Prompt: 'Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty. The right person will always think the sun shines out of your arse,'**

The door slammed behind her and she stalked across the hall fuming and muttering along the way. While it hadn't been the worst day...it was far from the best. A multitude of events had left Hermione's head reeling and had resulted in her grabbing a handful of files and storming out of the office, declaring that she'd be working from home where she could get some peace and quiet.

The flat was blissfully silent as she flung herself into a chair, retrieved a quill and set to work annotating and redrafting the necessary papers.

She'd heard him coming in of course, he wasn't exactly quiet and noise travelled fast in their small flat. But, as she had reached a critical point she focused all her attention on the papers.

She felt his hands on her shoulders and the small kiss that he rested upon her head...and smiled.

It was only when his hands drifted down her arms that she dropped her quill, barely noticing the splashes of ink which appeared across her previously pristine document.

"Bad day?" she heard the whisper as his breath brushed across her neck.

"It's getting better."

When he took her hands in his and began a gentle and rhythmic massage, she watched entranced as his strong fingers entwined with her ink stained fingers. Then, her eyes closed.

Intuitively and instinctively he seemed to know what she needed, paying attention to every finger and massaging away the aches and pains.

A soft touch drifted up her arms, drawing her hands away from the work in front of her and her attention elsewhere. A gentle pressure encouraged her to stand and she turned to face him, keeping her eyes closed and mirroring his actions as his eager hands caressed her face. She opened her eyes just as he placed a gentle kiss upon her lips.

"I like this way of saying hello," She whispered with a smile, reaching up and removing the darkened glasses which were hiding Ron's eyes from view.

Ron's fingers gently tickled her cheek as his sightless eyes opened and he reached for the chair, sitting down and pulling her with him.

"I'm quite fond of it myself." he said with a satisfied smile.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Eyes Open**

**Rating: PG-13**

**Words: 100**

**Prompt: Ron's hands. **

**Author's Note (if any): set during 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows'.**

Her screams were his entire world...nothing else could exist.

People around him fell away...meaningless occasional platitudes meant nothing as her screams filled the air.

He'd paced and roared, he'd even thumped the dungeon walls on occasion and the only result had been a mere sliver of pain in his hands.

Now he was slumped against the wall, eyes closed, desperately holding on to the memory of her hand in his.

Silence descended and he could almost feel her hand in his...a perfect match.

Then, the silence was broken, a new scream ripped through the air...the illusion vanished.

His eyes opened.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: Missing**

**Rating: T**

**Words: 390**

**Prompt: Three food items and you have to mention at least one of them in your drabble...Chocolate, Cheese and Coke. Hermione's point of view.**

They were driving her mad.

She knew they meant well but their suffocating attention was fast becoming too much to bear. Yes, she was worried about Ron but she wasn't about to fall apart if they left her alone for more than five minutes.

He was missing, not dead.

"I'm just going to get some fresh air." she announced to the crowded kitchen in the Burrow. "I'll be back before the next update."

Without waiting for the inevitable offers of company, Hermione grabbed her cloak and disappeared quickly out the back door.

With no destination in mind she wrapped the cloak around her and strode quickly across the dark over grown garden, not even noticing the damp dew which quickly soaked her shoes and the bottom of the heavy cloak.

"…_Missing…"_ the memory of the voice echoed through her mind with every step she took.

Missing, not dead.

She hated the 'not knowing'. Not knowing what was happening was fast becoming unbearable.

What was it that was keeping Ron from her? Where was he?

She was desperate to join the search but had to rely on the authorities to keep her updated on the quest and the investigations.

A rather neglected bench, partially covered in tendrils of ivy, provided respite and refuge for Hermione as she gratefully sat down. Hidden from sight, courtesy of a gnarled old tree, she sighed….desperately trying to regain control.

They hadn't been together for that long really, and yet the absence of his presence at her side…of his arm wrapped protectively around her made reality intolerable.

The search had gone on all night and the sun was just starting to peek out through the clouds…trying in vain to warm the earth below and provide some light through the dark. She'd go back soon…just not yet.

Her fingers were freezing and, vaguely remembering the gloves she always had in the pockets of her cloak, she began to search. The gloves were absent but she discovered something else.

It wasn't her cloak.

It was his.

A bar of Honeydukes finest rested in her hand, half had been devoured, half remained.

She opened it slowly but the scent of the chocolate reached her quickly.

Memories of chocolate flavoured kisses ghosted across her mind.

Her tears hit the chocolate as the shout came from the house.

It was time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: Time**

**Rating: T**

**Words: 449**

**Prompt: Talisman. This drabble must also be a Daddy!Ron drabble.**

The babble woke him from a deep sleep and he had to smile.

Every morning, without fail, as soon as the first hint of dawn appeared he would be woken by his daughter's nonsensical cheerful chatter. He listened for a moment to her in the next room before attempting to slip quietly from the bed.

"…gnomes…inter-departmental memos…infuriating…"

Grinning at his wife's more comprehensible babble, and trying not to wake her, he made his way out of the bed and out of the room.

His plan was thwarted when his bare foot found something in its path,

_"It is 5.30am…it is 5.30am…it is 5.30 am"._

He kicked the charmed alarm clock from its position on the floor, vaguely remembering the fact that it had been knocked to the ground some hours before. Holding his breath for a moment he continued his journey when all was quiet.

He made it to Rose's room and spotted his much more cheerful alarm clock as she stood at the side of her cot, still loudly babbling and holding her arms out to him.

"Did I hear you calling me Rose?"

Rose, delighted with her audience, gave her own babbling response.

Ron laughed as he lifted her from the cot and carried her from the room,

"I know, you saw the sun coming up and decided that it was time for a conversation with your daddy didn't you?"

A squeal, some babble and small hands clapping the sides of his face gave Ron his answer.

"Ah yes, I thought so."

Ron drew the curtains in the sitting room and fell into a comfy chair, sitting his chattering daughter on his knee.

It wasn't long before Rose lay back against her dad's chest and closed her eyes. It was the same every morning, her immediate enthusiasm at starting the day would give way to a quick nap before breakfast.

Ron cherished these ordinary moments, made magical simply by the fact that she was there.

There wasn't a sound in the room apart from his daughter's soft breathing and the regular ticking of the watch which lay upon the mantelpiece.

It was a watch, nothing charmed or magical about it. A muggle watch with a frayed leather strap reliably marking each second as they vanished forever.

It was also a memento of times past, a charm bringing the promise of future luck. It has been a present from his father on the day of Rosie's birth, from one father to another.

_Tick…tick…tick…_

The watch, which would always belong to his father in Ron's eyes, marked every magical ordinary moment.

_Tick…tick…tick…_

The watch, keeping time as it slowly slipped away, constantly reminding him to treasure every single moment.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: Shadows**

**Rating: T  
**

**Words: 406**

**Prompt: "When you're a kid, they tell you it's all 'Grow up. Get a job. Get married. Get a house. Have a kid. And that's it.' But the truth is, the world is so much stranger than that. It's so much darker. And so much madder. And so much better." Taken from Doctor Who. Drabble must be written in the first person. **

"I remember you saying once that you thought that a crowded room gave the most privacy…I'm fairly sure we were at Percy's wedding and it was just before you pulled me out onto the dance floor and whispered a certain something in my ear."

There was a familiar silence as I paused for breath,

I gently took her hand in mine,

"So, I think it was something to do with how in a big crowd no-one is really looking at you and in a small room there is nowhere to hide…that works out alright actually because this definitely isn't a small quiet room."

A clatter from the other side of the ward as a tray of potions fell to the ground, accompanied by the explanations of a rather flustered student healer, was timely evidence of my statement.

"But that's okay, because it means that I can say all this and the only one who's ever going to hear it will be you." I whispered, leaning my head beside hers and keeping hold of her hand.

"We never really did things the way people thought we should. I suppose that's what happens when there's a megalomaniac dark wizard waiting in the wings for some of the time. We knew the world was stranger…madder…better than most gave it credit for being. We did things in our own time, in our own way, because we knew better than most what the shadows held."

The hectic ward fell away and there was just the two of us.

"Everyone thought that when the war was over we'd just get on with our lives as if everything was perfect. They didn't understand that the darkness was still clinging on…I could see it in your eyes late at night…and I know you can see it in mine. But, y'see that's alright. A bit of shadow every now and then is perfectly fine, because the only way to get rid of the shadows completely is to turn off the light and I'm not prepared to do that because Hermione…this is just a shadow."

Her eyes remained closed, her hand stayed still as I looked at her.

"I know things are going to be fine because we've seen the shadows before and we've gotten through them. So…" I began to slowly massage her hand as I had done every day for the past two months, "I'm going to be here, waiting, whenever you wake up."


End file.
